Rain, starting

kind of mythopoesis

ion

She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.

She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue

i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

lol

really i want the internet

much more tactility

i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me

lol yea

its performative

like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them

its good short few pages

i love it here

Picture

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life